Walk
by iD3
Summary: The Holy War left its mark on people's an nations. Ky Kiske was no exception. Having been dismissed from the IPF, a chance meeting throws the jaded crusader into a chain of events he never saw coming.
1. Chapter I: Wasted Sacrifice

Disclaimer: I do not own Guilty Gear or its associated characters.

Walk

by iD3

Chapter I: Wasted Sacrifice

Ky awoke to the sound of screaming. The young officer jolted upright in his bed, body moistened with sweat. It took the youth a moment to realize it was him who had been screaming. Ky sighed heavily, trying to remember the last time he'd gotten a good night's sleep. The Frenchman was starting to get worn down again.

It was hard for the ex-knight to drown out the terrible aching in his heart. Just like everything else in the world, Ky was a product of the Crusades, they had left their mark on him.

Ky sat still in his bed, the silvery light of the moon casting pale shadows in the corners of his room. Almost every night the jaded knight would awake with a start, his sleep interrupted by some terrible phantom from Ky's past.

Each time it was slightly different, yet each dream seemed to follow some unseen framework that bound it to the soldier's soul. Sometimes he would see Justice, striding the field of battle, crushed corpses scattering in her wake.

Still worse were the ghosts that sometimes haunted his nightmares. Often times he was visited by the aspects of the dead. They clouded his vision, ripped at his flesh, and tore at his fragile heart. The men who had fallen in Ky's service weighed heavily on his conscience.

Although the weight of the dead was heavy on his shoulders one man vexed him more than all the others. The former knight never knew exactly why the man in red haunted him so. It wasn't often that Ky dreamt of his darker counterpart but when he did it was almost unbearable.

Ky shook his head, and stood. There wasn't any sense in thinking about the past now. The weary warrior shambled across the dark room to his closet. The dresser was lined with uniforms. The stiff garments never felt quiet right to his shoulders. They were just another irritating aspect of his new position.

As the young officer liberated one of the uncomfortable suits from its hanger, Ky glanced over to where his old uniform lay. The garment was in pristine condition, though slightly faded from neglect. Under the flowing blue and white clothes were layers of carefully crafted armor which had, on more then one occasion, saved his life.

Ky turned away. The robe reminded him of a darker, more violent time. A simpler time. A nobler time. He'd worn the garb thrice since the end of the wars but no more.

It was the same routine every morning. He would awake violently, unable to fall back asleep. Then he would dress himself, taking a few moments to cast a sideways glance at his old effects.

Then it was time to complete the final phase of his morning ritual. The weary officer turned his head sideways, his old sword rack coming into view. There sat Ky's old weapon. Like his uniform he'd used it on three separate occasions since the end of the wars. Each morning it called to him, begging him to hold it high once more. It called him back to glory, back to pride, back to battle and bloodshed. Ky's heart felt heavy as he stared at the silvery object. The weary Frenchman turned away. He couldn't bear to look at it.

Ky stopped for a moment, snapping his uniform straight and glancing at himself in the mirror with feigned interest and then walked out the door and into the cold world.

***

It was pouring. Dizzy's heavy coat weighed her down as it greedily absorbed the heavy droplets. Her two friends were in a similar predicament. The soaked Gear dodged out of the rain, her companions following suite.

"I hate England!" One of them moaned out loud. May squeezed the water from her brown hair before tying it back in a pony tail.

"That's a little unfair," Dizzy's other companion chimed in. "After all, its beautiful country even it it's… a little… damp." April didn't look too enthused however, her boots covered in mud.

The three companions were dressed in layers of clothing particularly suited for extended travel. All of which had, unfortunately, taken on their share of water. Dizzy made a mental note to find something a bit more water proof for their next trip to the British island.

The young Gear looked around, carefully surveying the scene. Her wings and tail were getting stiff under layers of rain soaked garments. Although Dizzy desperately wanted to rid herself of the heavy clothing and stretch out her inhuman extremities she knew they had to find someplace a little more private.

"Let's find someplace to stay the night," April said, as if picking up on Dizzy's concerns. "It'll be nice to dry off and get warm." The two girls nodded.

"And maybe we can ask around and see if anyone else has come through this part of town… you know?" April and Dizzy frowned at May's this, sad memories washing over the group.

"Yea," April said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe… we'll find somebody… this time." The brown-haired mechanic had long since given up any reasonable hope of finding any of their old companions. Nearly a year of running had weathered her spirits.

"Well, we better start looking," April finished, a heavy sigh apparent in her voice. The three companions wandered the small British village, dashing from cover to cover, looking for a place to hang their hats. Eventually they came upon a quaint looking inn. Although the building itself was not of the highest quality they all agreed this was the best, if not only, choice in lodgings. With that the three companions stepped in and rented a room.

Dizzy let out a heavy sigh of relief when they finally made it up the stairs and into the room. Although it wasn't very large, the three ex-pirates were more then accustomed to living in close proximity. The half Gear hefted off her heavy coat and stretched her wings to their full extent.

While Dizzy stretched out, April and May were busy wringing out their water laden clothes in the sink and tub. Despite the creeping fatigue, Dizzy joined her companions. It was better to clean and dry everything now. The half Gear knew full well they had to take advantage of every chance to rest and clean up.

Dizzy prayed that this time they would find someone from the Mayship in this small British town. It had been nearly a year since they were forced to abandon ship.

"Somethin' wrong Dizzy?" The blue-haired Gear looked up at May.

"I was just thinking about… everything." The brunette's eyes fell, knowing full well what Dizzy was talking about.

"Yea…" May trailed off, not knowing what else to say. "Tomorrow will be better." Dizzy nodded in agreement, letting May resume the daunting task of cleaning the mud from her boots.

Then again, she thought, they'd been telling themselves that for a long time.

***

Ky could feel their eyes following him as he entered the room. The clattering of keyboards stopped, the shuffling of papers fell silent and the clamor of chatter died away in his wake. Although Ky was an officer of the law there were times when he didn't feel suited to life in the IPF. Wary eyes followed his every movement. The weary officer paid them no mind and continued past the desks and into his office.

He heard the clamor rise as the blond-haired officer shut the wood and glass door behind him. He seated himself at his desk and shuffled through a few papers that were still stacked there. It probably would have been better if he'd stayed home but work was the only thing Ky had left.

The lackluster officer cast a sideways glance out his window. It was raining again. It seemed like it was always raining in England. His superiors had transferred the young figure-head to the small island as something of a political maneuver. Ky frowned at the thought. No sooner was he going to turn back to his work when the door flew open.

"Officer Kiske, I'd like to see you in my office, now." The man's voice was stern and demanding. He slammed the door behind him, his loud footsteps tracing a route back to where he'd come from.

Ky rubbed his temples, knowing exactly what was about to happen. He stood, not bothering to retrieve any items from his desk before heading to his commander's office. The man was of unassuming stature, bland in everyway. That being said, he was of some notoriety, or he would not be in position to make any demands of the former leader of the Holy Order.

"Would you care to explain what you're doing here Officer Kiske?" The man's voice was calm, hinting at mild irritation more than anger.

"Well," Ky began, knowing there was no way out of his current predicament. "I was assigned here roughly three and a half months ago under the premise that I con-"

"Look," he said calmly, cutting Ky off abruptly. "I don't have the time or patience for this. I understand that you are very dedicated to your work but… I sent you home for a reason. I'm getting tired of this."

Ky's face remained stone cold, eyes forwards, posture stiff and erect. He chose not to respond. Whether this was because he didn't want to anger the small man or because he didn't feel the need to justify himself wasn't readily apparent to either of them.

The young officer could feel his superior's gaze burrowing into him. It was clear this small man of moderate importance had begun to lose his cool. If anything could be said of Ky's superior it was that he lacked the often times necessary virtue of patience.

Ky saw him pull a small manila envelope from his desk. The blond glanced down at the rigid looking document which bore the official seal of the IPF. His commander flipped open the cover revealing a single piece of relatively plain, unassuming, paper. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this," he began, slowly building into the rest of his sentence. "You're a great asset to the IPF and lord knows that you've earned the respect and gratitude of every goddamned person on this blasted planet but I'm going to have to dismiss you."

Ky stared down at the document. He felt a deep heat rising in his body.

"As of now, you are released from your responsibilities as a noncommissioned officer of the IPF."

Anger was, perhaps, not the right word to describe what the young officer was feeling. Ky's features remained immutable despite the building sensation washing over him. It was wrong, it was insulting, it was shameful.

"This matter will be handled quietly," he continued. "The IPF, the UN and the entire human race is grateful for your years of service both during the Crusades and in the delicate Post War environment. We will provide you with a monthly stipend as a show of thanks now that you have been released from active duty."

"Yes sir," he replied, saluting smartly. "Will that be all?"

The small man watched him for a moment but Ky was unable to read any reaction of his face. He had begun to lose focus, a burning anger blurring his senses. He caught a nod of dismissal from the corner of his eye. Ky saluted one last time, turned on his heel, and marched out of the room.

A hush fell over the building as he exited the commander's office. Ky marched by his former coworkers, ignoring their stares and murmurs. Even though it was justified in some ways, the betrayal hurt.

Although precinct was only a few miles from Ky's house, the return trip seemed to take an eternity. He'd become accustomed to the hollow feeling over the last year and it had driven him to do rash things at times. Kiske reflected on the string of events that had lead up to this newest development. The youth supposed he should have seen it coming.

It didn't really matter now; he just wanted to get away. The youth longed to fill the hole in his heart if even for a few hours. His work used to be one such escape. Although tedious and mind-numbing it distracted him. The shuffling of papers and signing of documents allowed him to focus on the mediocrity of his life and ignore his real problems. It helped him to forget about the dreams, if only for the time he was awake.

Ky knew he had to get away. He had to escape the nightmare, even if for only a few hours. Fuck it, it wasn't like he had work in the morning.

Author's Note: I've been working on this and The Search for I for a long time now and I've got some extra material on the computer but for some reason I haven't proofed or finalized any of it until now. That being said I figured now is as good a time as any to post, if only for my own amusement. The title of this piece, Walk is by Pantera off the album Vulgar Display of Power. The title of the chapter, Wasted Sacrifice is by Killswitch Engage and comes off their album The End of Heartache.


	2. Chapter II: Descending

Disclaimer: I do not own Guilty Gear or its associated characters.

Chapter II: Descending

Ky was having a difficult time remembering how long ago he'd ordered the hefty bottle of amber colored liquid. He stared, wide-eyed at the container. The blond-haired man had never been one for drinking and yet here he was.

A lot of people drink for a lot of reasons. Some like to enjoy friends and family over a social few, others want only to drown out their anxieties and insecurities. Ky was one of the latter. The ex-knight was accustomed to having a glass of wine or spirits with any number of the aristocracy, seeing as he was a champion of mankind but only twice before had he really taken it upon himself to drink himself into idiocy.

This was one of those occasions. He marveled at the glass bottle. It was much emptier than he remembered it being. Ky, unfortunately, was not one of high tolerance.

The memories of his past made him nauseous. It was odd to Ky that memories of dreams of memories could force him to such drastic measures. Drastic, he wondered, was that the word to describe it? No, he didn't think drastic fit quiet well. Desperate, maybe.

Then again, he wasn't sure about much of anything these days. Ky poured himself another glass from the quickly emptying bottle and took a heavy draw. It tasted horrible and burned his throat, but at least it distracted him.

***

The three girls sat in silence as they ate their meal. Cash was tight as of late. It had taken the three a good hour to find something that they were all reasonably happy with that fit into their price range. April and Dizzy giggled as they watched their orange friend devour the hefty platter.

They needed to make some money. They needed to find work. Dizzy sighed remembering their past attempts. Things always started out well. There was always employment for three nice girls who needed cash. They would wash dishes, bus tables, cook, clean or perform any other menial tasks that paid. Dizzy's unique 'condition' made it difficult however. Their employment always ended in some extreme and often times awkward situation which gave away the Gear's inhuman nature.

People who had once genuinely liked her were turned into hysterical mobs, chasing the three companions out of town. Dizzy didn't understand it. When they thought she was human, the Gear was greeted with open arms. Why did it matter that she had wings? Was she any different of a person because of it?

Having finished their meals and paid the man at the register, the three companions decided to head back to their room. April had been loath to give up the little silver coins; a pained look apparent on her face as she paid the tab. Luckily, the small city seemed to have ample need for able bodied mechanics.

"Uh, Dizzy?" The half Gear turned towards the voice. "April and I were thinking of going to see if we can find some work at one of the repair shops in town. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure," she responded hesitantly. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," the brown-headed pirate continued. "It's just that… with our last couple jobs… maybe you should… take a break?"

Dizzy frowned, understanding immediately what was happening. "Yea, I guess that would be for the best…" Although she hated to be separated from her only two friends it seemed like she had become something of a burden. Dizzy nodded her head in resignation. They needed the income to survive and it was apparent that the Gear would only jeopardize their financial security.

The three companions said their goodbyes. Dizzy decided it was best to head back to their room while her last remaining friends headed out to find employment.

Her footfalls felt heavy in the mud as Dizzy made her way back to the small inn. The girl's mind drifted to dark places as she made her way back. It seemed such a cruel hand fate had dealt her. At least she had April and May with her.

Dizzy pushed back the heavy wooden door, her eyes avoiding the contact of passers-by. The man at the counter nodded to her politely, showing no real interest in her passing. She sighed heavily, the man's lack of attention serving only to drive her further into the melancholy that she now felt.

The Gear was just about to head up the rickety stairs to her room when something caught her eye. She glanced across the room, past the tables full of happy patrons. Sitting at the bar was a young man. His golden hair was frazzled, still partially drenched from the rain. She felt her heart jump as her eyes fell over the water logged figure.

Dizzy had never expected to see him here. She still remembered their first meeting. The young officer had given her a second chance at life. At the moment, however, he looked like a shadow of the proud warrior she had known, slouched over the counter clutching a glass of amber liquid in one hand and a bottle of the same in the other.

She looked at the stairs, which would lead to her room where the half Gear could wallow in her own pity, and then looked back at the young man opposite her.

Misery must like company.

***

Ky was having a difficult time remembering things. Then again, he wasn't really trying. The drunken youth let his head hit the bar with a resounding thud. If anyone else was paying attention to him he didn't care. Life seemed odd and trivial. He gripped the bottle in his right hand tighter, as though it might seek to escape him at any moment.

"Um, excuse me?" Ky stared at the wooden bar. Upon close examination he realized just how filthy it was. There were divots in its surface from extended use, its edges faded and worn from its long term of service.

"Excuse me," came the voice again, slightly louder and more assertive. Why wouldn't they go away? Ky waved his hand slightly, motioning for them to leave him in peace. Apparently they didn't get the message.

"Excuse me, um, sir?" These continued advances were starting to anger him. Ky faintly recognized the sharp sound of glass shattering somewhere to his left. There was a round of slightly muffled gasps around him, but the blond couldn't bring himself to care. It took a moment for him to realize that the contents of his glass were now in direct contact with his hand.

Ky lifted his head at the burning sensation which was now building in his palm. When he investigated the blond found that something was wrong with his glass and it was covered in a viscous red liquid. This isn't what he had ordered.

The irritated youth was about to complain when he realized that his glass was broken and the crimson fluid in his glass was issuing from his hand.

"Um," the voice sounded again from behind him. Ky turned around to address the stammering figure, officially tired of the continued interruptions. Unfortunately the youth wasn't as steady as he had been an hour ago. Instead of wheeling around to face his new adversary Ky flipped himself about on the stool, unseating himself in the process.

There was a muffled scream as he hit the floor with a resounding thud. He laid there for a moment, unresponsive at the ruckus he'd caused. Ky only paid passing attention to the harsh tone emanating from the man on the other side of the bar. It took a moment for the blond to realize it was the bartender, telling him to leave.

Ky's face turned down in disgust as he picked himself up from the floor and grabbed the half-empty bottle in front of him. The blond stumbled wide as he grabbed at the bottle, bumping the counter. Irritated at the situation he pulled back abruptly, his footing unsure. To make matters worse the hardwood floor was moist from the liquor he had spilled earlier.

For all his grace and dexterity on the battlefield the discarded warrior was unable to keep his balance, shoes slipping out from underneath him. Instead of another painful encounter with the floor however, Ky hit something much softer. Lucky for him, whatever it was managed to keep both of them upright despite the unexpected shift in weight.

It took a moment for Ky to realize the object he'd struck was actually a person. He swerved about, ripping away from the figure's grip and shot it a fierce glare. Their gazes locked, however, he found himself staring into crimson eyes. It seemed like an unnaturally long period of time the disheveled youth stared back at the person across from him. Ky didn't know if it was the alcohol or something else but he was unable to break free from the figure's crystalline gaze.

The memories came rushing back, each more painful than the last. It seemed like there was some small glimmering hope at the bottom of it all. But it was a pin-point source of warmth in a sea of anguish.

Ky stumbled back, blindly heading for the door, crashing through a wave of blurry figures in his frantic rush to get outside. He broke out into the cool night air. Rain soaked into his hair, matting Ky's golden mane to his forehead and running down his face.

A small lamp oil lamp cast a flickering light which scattered out before him into the darkness. The floor boards creaked under Ky's feet. They were splintered and cracked where the thick soup of mud and water penetrated into the cores of the planks, weathering down their fibers into base materials.

The world seemed a smear of browns and grays that ebbed and flowed with the failing light. Ky seated himself on the makeshift sidewalk with much more vigor than he'd intended. The drunken youth ignored the moisture that was seeping into his clothing, chilling him to the bone.

Everything was a daze. Ky could only wonder what had just happened. He held his head in his hands, trying to drown out the torrent of memories that rushed into his mind. He cursed his old comrades, his superiors, his God and anyone else that came to mind. His comrades had abandoned him. When he left the battlefield their bodies had remained and now their faces were etched in his mind. His superiors had betrayed him. Ky was a crusader, not a policeman. They had leashed him, humiliated him, abused his trust, and after everything Ky had done for them they cast him aside. God had forsaken him. Hadn't the holy warrior done his duty? He lead mankind out of darkness and restored their spirit. Ky brought hope where there was none, light where there was only darkness.

How low he had fallen. He felt numb. He felt exhaustion wash over him like a heavy cowl. Fatigue consumed his mind and body. Although Ky was fully aware that he was sitting outside in the middle of the rain he couldn't bring himself to care. The amber liquid had drained his will and sapped what was left of his strength.

He let the low patter of falling rain coax him into the darkness as his senses fell away.

***

He was a lot heavier then Dizzy had imagined. The weathered Frenchman was barely conscious and made no attempt to aid the Gear as she struggled to drag him out of the rain. With no small effort she managed to right the young crusader and pull him to his feet. Luckily, Ky seemed to have regained enough of his faculties that he was able to hold himself up right. "H-Hey," Dizzy stuttered, nervous that the drunken warrior would cause another scene if she so much as breathed a word to him. "A-Are you alright?"

She waited for an answer but after a few moments it became obvious that Ky either had no intention of responding or was unable to must enough coherency to do so. In either event Dizzy decided to let him sleep it off in their bed, after all she owed him her life. She sighed heavily, readying herself to drag the semi-conscious blond up the stairs. Dizzy threw Ky's arm around her shoulders and started carrying him towards the door. He groaned heavily, leaning into his new-found human crutch, almost causing Dizzy to capsize as she pushed her way back into the building.

Several of the patrons turned as Dizzy came stumbling in, drunkard in tow. None of them looked happy to see him. Maybe it was best to get him to the room, and quick. The Gear began to make her way to the room after managing him through the entrance way. It was easy to pull Ky in the direction of the stairs, less so to stop him.

She veered wide, slamming into the wall. Pain shot through Dizzy's side as Ky's full weight sent her crashing into the unforgiving wall. By some miracle she managed to swing Kiske around enough to avoid sending him tumbling to the ground. She took a moment to steady the two of them. The young man seemed mostly unphased by the small accident and wobbled uncertainly as Dizzy adjusted him.

"Okay, time for the stairs. You ready?" The Gear said, more to steel herself then to warn the incoherent man she was carrying. The process ended up being more annoying than difficult. By the time Dizzy managed to get Ky through the door she was exhausted. Despite her unnatural heritage, she was human in her most basic faculties and barely had physical strength to wrangle the drunk man up the stairs and down the hall.

Very carefully Dizzy wheeled the drunken youth across the room to the nearby bed. He was still soaked from head to toe and Dizzy decided it would be a good idea to dry him off before he completely passed out.

First she had to get him undressed. Dizzy sighed heavily and then started about her work. Although it took some doing, getting the drunken Kiske unclothed was much easier than hauling him up a flight of stairs which she was thankful for. His uniform was wet and muddy. The young gear did the best she could to minimize the amount of mud and dirty water she scattered in her attempt to derobe the youth but had little success. Clearly she was going to have some cleaning to do after this was over.

Despite her age, Dizzy was physically, mentally, and emotionally a mature woman. That being said, she had never seen a naked man in the eight eventful years of her life. Her face flushed as she realized her exact situation. It was hard not to stare as she removed the last of Ky's clothing, exposing her new roommate's more sensitive reigions.

The girls of the Mayship had made small attempts to explain the intricacies of "the birds and the bees" at different times but seeing the real thing was a bit much for Dizzy, filling her with a number of conflicting feelings. Rather than drying Ky off with the towel, as she had originally planned, the cloth ended up around his waist.

She pushed aside her personal curiosities and a slew of unclean thoughts and tucked the drunk into bed. Having finally situated Ky, the young Gear surveyed the damage she'd done. The young officer's clothes lay at the foot of the bed where she had neatly placed them but there was evidence of Dizzy's struggle to undress the young man everywhere. She grumbled to herself and set about cleaning up the small mess she'd made. Dizzy wasn't sure how she was going to explain the naked Frenchman in their bed to April and May but hoped they would understand. Besides, she told herself, if anyone could help them locate their friends, surely Ky could.

It had been a long time since she'd seen the white knight. Dizzy couldn't help but smile. Maybe things were getting better.

Author's Note: The title of this chapter, Descending, is by Lamb of God, off their newest album, Sacrament.


End file.
